The Odd Lion's Path: A Story of One Year's Banishm
by DuskyHawk
Summary: Shars'Bak isn't your typical Druid-in-training: He's a day dreamer and a village shut-in. What happens when he's come of age and still refuses to go out and make it in the world? The Elder's answer is forced banishment, for a year. More adventures await!
1. The Banishment

Author's Note: This is my first Warcraft story, set to Cataclysm. Not all lore may be followed, as the village that Shars'bak grows up in, does not really exist in WoW as we know it.

Shars'Bak originally was a Resto-Druid in training who never quite made it, who was eventually recruited by Feral Druid teachers. He has incomplete training and this is where the story picks up.

To find oneself...  
>-<p>

When the village-folk tolerated Shars'bak, they called him many things like: Fleetfoot, Jumptall and Eyeshine. When the community became tired of his rather scatter-brained nature, he recieved other names such as Backbreaker, Hangbelly or Bentwhisker. Such was the life of a young Druid, who in his early years, was raised in the Restoration teachings, until his lackluster talent caught the attention of the Feral Druid teachers.

Shars'bak looked at the village elder with fear in his eyes, unable to meet his gaze. This meeting had been planned days in advance, and was sure to spark some kind of punishment.

"Shars'bak, we find you unconcerned with your future. When do you expect to make something of yourself? All the other young ones in your age group have already moved on..." There was a long pause before the village elder contiuned in a voice that was soft, yet harsh, "When will you do the same?"

Although they were in an outside setting, sitting on cut log benches that were a good distance from each other, the elder's words rang clear as day.

"Elder Brunthorn, with all due respect, I don't know if the war on Deathwing or the struggle against the Alliance is for me. You're asking me to leave my home, and venture into the world, with little to no idea, of what to expect. I rather live in peace here in Tanak'Talon, healing others or protecting those I love. Why do you insist on sending me away from here? Is this not the second largest Tauren settlement, aside from Thunderbluff?"

The two Tauren which flanked the Elder on either side whispered to the Elder in tones too low to hear, not taking their eyes off of Shars'Bak. The talking contiuned for a minute, before one of the Elder's assistants pulled out a scroll of paper from a container hanging on his belt, that Shars'Bak had not noticed before.

"As it is written in the Book of Times, all young ones must find their destiney outside of the walls of Tanak'Talon. To refuse so, is to bring shame to your bloodline. Your parents, if they were still here now, would have wanted you to seek out your future," said the assistant to the Elder's right.

As if by que, the assistant on the left spoke as well, "Druid nature is like that of the seasons; they travel, they learn, they adapt. They do not bind themselves to one place for a long time. You on the other hand, stare into the clouds for hours, days, weeks on end. To allow this to keep on happening, would be a disservice to you, and this village."

There was a long pause while Elder Brunthorn's eyes seemed to burn into Shars'bak's figure. When Shars'bak did not reply, the elder seemed dissapointed, so he finally spoke.

"In nature after a period of time, the young leave the nest to find their way in life, but here you are, wishing to hide in the skirts of this town, to amount to nothing. Taurens don't do that. Druids don't do that. I have a feeling the only way I am going to cure you of your day dreaming is banishment. It would have been easier if your parents were here, but alas. The only way to fix it is harsh reality."

If the young Druid could have cried, he would have been throwing a calflike fit. Banishment? Sure something like this had been brought up before, but it had seemed like a hollow threat. He was but 21 years old, and hardly ventured from the protection of the village. What Druid ever put themselves into banishment unless they were mad?

"No, Elder, please.. I'll die! I'm .. I'm a friendly Druid, I like to heal things!" Shars'bak was almost whimpering, but the last shreds of his dignity wouldn't allow it.

The elder got up, and so did his assistants, all seeming to grow in height.

"One year forced exile. You said you worried about defending yourself, feeding yourself and the such? The lion is a top predator on many food chains. The druidic lion is no exception. They have many ways to defend themselves, from mangling their enemies, to shreding them to bits. They are known to be exceptionally friendly to the helpless, even exude healing qualities." The elder paused, to gather his thoughts, "While some may consider it harsh to exile you away from here, this is the only hope we have to force you to grow up, and to get away from the safety of home. We will be sending you a good distance away from Tanak'Talon, with no hope to return, until your sentence is done."

Shars'bak couldn't tell if he was hallucinating, when a pair of well-muscled lions appeared from nowhere, seeming to appear out of thin air, walking in step. They began to chant in such a way that Shars'Bak felt like invisible weights were holding him down.

"No! I'm sorry.. I'm Smmmerree"... The sentence was cut short when Shars'Bak fell to his hands and saw his fingers melting into what appeared to be paws. The end of the sentence ended in a weak roar, and Shars'Bak nearly soiled himself, when one of the assistants pulled out a mirror. When Shars'Bak stared into it, he saw not himself, but a tan lion staring back at him.

"Remeber, one year from today, I will summon you back to see if you have learned anything. I give you this - a neckpiece that will let you know when the time is drawing close. It may appear to be nothing more than a simple bird skull, but as time passes, it will go from being a deep blue color, to gold. When this happens, I will come for you. Do not disappoint me."

And with that, Shars'Bak saw blackness.

When Shars'Bak slowly came back to the realm of the living, his arms and legs felt like they had been through a marathon. Every square inch of his body ached and the pain was slowly building up from annoying to downright torment. Shars'Bak forced his eyes open and found himself staring at a moon and star-lit world of vegitation, sand and water. He made an attempt to get up, but quickly found himself stumbling back to earth, chin on the ground. His limbs seemed to fail on him, and not bend the way he wanted to, but at least he was awake, and out of whatever nightmare he had slipped into. Thing is, Shars'Bak could not remember wandering into the forest, or the forest ever being by a large body of water.

The Druid recalled the weird dream from earlier, talking to the elder and then being banished; it left him unsettled and wondering if he should tell anyone in the village what he had imagined. Shars'Bak snorted, and couldn't wait to shake it off with another hum drum day at the village. Whatever was going on, he would go to one of the village doctors, to figure it out.

Still lost in thought, Shars'Bak used both hands to right himself, and finally looked down, gasping in horror. Even in the dim moonlight he could tell that something wasn't right. He wasn't looking at his normal three-fingered hands, he was looking at a four-toed, fur-covered paw. A lion's paw. In another second, a roar could be heard echoing through the trees, as Shars'Bak rose to his feet, and started breathing rapidly. The rush of the previous day hit him with such a force that he sat there staring into space for a few seconds.

Something shiney caught his eye, and he looked down, to see a necklace resting on a small fern; it was the same bird pendent that Elder Brunthorn had shown him, after his change. The Druid cautiously picked up the item in a paw and saw that it had a string attached to it, just long enough so that he could wear it around his neck. After a few tries, Shars'Bak got it around his mane, and let the necklace settle into his fur so that the only hint that anything was around his neck was the very tip of the birdskull's beak showing through is fur.

With that accomplished, suddently the forest seemed very loud and very alien, all the bird calls and animal noises in the night, being amplified. _-What will I do now? I have no idea where I am, and even if I did, who would I go to?-_ Shars'Bak thought, bitterly.

The Druid's belly growled loudly, as if demanding to be the mental conversation. Shars'Bak looked around, studying where he was. For one, it was the dead of night, and for two, here he was less than a few blocks away from the ocean, and at the edge of a forest. This meant there was a beach nearby, and maybe the chance of something to eat. The forest also provided oppertunities of food-stuffs, but the forest offered more cover and chances to blend in with the scenery.

Considered his Druidic lion form, Shars'Bak could see perfectly in the dark, and had no trouble making his way deeper into the forest. He could tell his sense of hearing had also improved and he could, with concentration, hear more sounds in the night. He could hear the birds squabbling int he tree above, and the slither of a snake some distance away.

Right now, the best course of action seemed to be finding a place to settle down for the night, then seeing about hunting in the early morning.

Shars'bak treaded deeper into the thick forest, and found a lean-to not a mile in, that appeared to have no inhabitants. With a few quick sniffs in the air, and a long listen, Shars'Bak finally settled down for the night in a shallow depression created by a felled log.

_-I wonder if the elder told everyone where I am at? Or if I have been exiled? I wonder if anyone will miss me, seeing as I was the point of everyone's joke?-_ Shars'Bak rested his chin on his paws and rolled over to look at the small patch of starts he could see through the tree cover. Everything seemed so peaceful over here, but he was sure it would change soon.

I will make the next chapters a bit longer and introduce new characters, very soon.


	2. The Forest, Part I

**Author's Note:** This is my first Warcraft story, set to Cataclysm. Not all lore may be followed, as the village that Shars'bak grows up in, does not really exist in WoW as we know it.

Chapter two sees the introduction of my first character in the woods. Also, it should be noted that Shars'Bak can not currently speak out loud in his cat form. He can make all the lion noises, but can not form words with the way his jaw is set up.

All POV's are from third person, from the druid's view, unless otherwise stated.

Any comments, suggestions, are welcome.  
>-<p>

The sun had just risen and shafts of light filtered down through the tree tops. Daytime creatures were starting to stir, and the temperature was rising.

Shars'Bak awoke to a chorus of birds in the tree tops and a growling stomach. He slowly got up and stretched, feeling his back pop in a few places. _"I'm still a lion,"_ the druid thought dryly, and winced as a memory hit him from a few years back: Shars'Bak's first successful transformation into a druidic cat. He was a good size for a druid cat, but scruffy-looking, with bits of his mane missing, and fur patches at different lengths on his body. As the last bits of smoke cleared Shars's form, someone or something moved at the corner of his eye before he exploded in a charge, rushing the closest feral teacher, an older male tauren. He had his jaws around Master Highfang's arm in under a second, and was trying to dislocate it with all his might. He could hear voices in the background, but they were dimmed, as if being heard through a tunnel. Shars'Bak's cat instincts had crushed his tauren reasoning and shoved it to the side, in favor of an offensive attack to defend itself against an imaginary enemy. The feral teacher quickly transformed into his cat form as well, and there was a breif spat between the two felines, before Shars was pinned to the floor and quickly knocked out. * * * *

The memory ended quickly, and Shars'Bak shook his head in embarressment. Shars had taken on the druidic lion form a few times in the past for his feral lessons, but it had been fleeting; the cat instincts had been dominated Shars's ability to reason, and left him little more than a wild animal.

At the moment, if Shars'bak did have a feral side to contend with, it wasn't lashing out. His cat instincts either didn't exist at this point in time, or felt no need to act. Shars rolled his eyes at the thought of fate being kind to him at this moment, or in the near future, and decided to head out, deeper into the forest. The lion set a steady, bounding pace, and decided that whatever was on the other side of this forest certainly couldn't be any worse than inhabited it. _"I need to find food soon, or I will starve to death, no question about that. I also need to find out where I am, and locate a druidic healer to lift this spell. I'm not spending a year as a flea bag!"_

Some hours later, Shars stopped when he heard rolling thunder in the distance. He looked up and could tell that the clouds overhead had gotten considerably darker. As if on que, it began to drizzle, then pour, and very quickly, the forest floor was a maze of puddles. The druid took a few moments to lap water out of one of the newly formed puddles and moved to find shelter.

The ground had become slick with all the rain water and Shars found himself moving at a much slower pace. Stepping on what appeared to be a shallow puddle, something darted a short distance away, and hissed angrily; it was a bright green garden snake, which did not appear to be poisenous. The druid's stomach growled again, and Shars'Bak found himself looking at the first meal, since he got to this unknown land.

The druid focused on the hissing snake, tensed his muscles, and pounced on the creature, and killing it in a swift motion.

Shars'Bak forced his maw open and started taking bites of the now-dead animal, trying to ignore the taste of scales, flesh, bone and blood. The druid felt better, the edge of his hunger sated. The snake hadn't tasted like much of anything, leading Shars to wonder if lion taste buds weren't as sensitive as that of the Tauren.

An unusual change came over the druid's personna at this little bit of food, and Shars'Bak found himself needing more than just a snake to satisfy his hunger. A sudden urge to kill a bigger prey animal took ahold of Shars'Baks normal reasoning, as the lion's survival instincts kicked in. An over-riding command assumed control: **'Find suitable prey. Kill prey. Consume prey'.**

Shars was salavating slightly and picked up his pace once again, in search of a meal. The water had wiped all scents out, and the constant din of raid made tracking animals by sound, harder. Everything in the forest looked similiar, with rock outcropings and natural stone structures dotting the landscape. Thirty to forty minutes of intense searching of the rock structures, finally yeilded success: Shars'Bak had located a pair of deer that had found a little cave to take shelter in.

A doe was standing near the enterance of the cave, looking around nervously, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. The doe wasn't a threat; it had no antlers, nor the weight of a buck. If it attacked Shars, it would die. Not more than ten feet away from the doe, sat a fawn, presumebly her offspring. The fawn was the druid's target, soft and even more vunerable than the doe.

Creeping close to the ground and upwind from his prey, Shars'Bak crept as close to the ground as he could. Once Shars'Bak was within ten feet of the doe, there was no more ground clutter to hide in, but at this point it did not matter; he sprung in front of the doe and -roared-, stunning the animal. The fawn attempted to get up, tripping over its legs and causing it to fall. Shars'Bak charged past the doe and quickly bit down on the fawn's neck, killing it instantly. It's legs kept twitching as Shars'Bak turned back towards to the doe, showing off his teeth a second time. The doe glanced past him for a second, and upon seeing its offspring dead, fled into the forest with an anguished bleet.

Shars'Bak slowly walked to the dead fawn, pulling it deeper into the cave, and began to feast.  
>++++*****_<p>

Twenty minutes later, Shars'Bak the druid snapped back to himself, as the animal instincts slowly faded away. His front paws were covered in blood and right in front of him, were the remains of a dead fawn. Shars'Bak felt extremely full, and had the desire to roll over and go to sleep. The druid decided sleep could wait for a a few minutes, and went outside the cave to wash his paws before returning and lying down. He had no memory of killing this animal, and it didn't sit right with him. Something had triggered his animal instincts, and they had taken complete control. Shars stared at one of the walls of the cave absent-mindly for a few moments, before finally dosing off, thinking of home, and his family.

++++*****_  
>When Shars'Bak awoke, he looked out the enterance of the cave. The sky was pitch black, and the druid had no idea how close dawn was. With a loud yawn, he proceeded to exit his cave and glanced around; everything was as it had been, before he had dozed off. Though the druid may have been a considerably 'lazy' person, he had always favored the company of friends and peers. Right now, he was starting to feel lonely, and could only imagine going mad, with no friends or family to talk to. For a moment, a sense of panic overtook him; the idea of being a feral animal at nature's mercy was not his idea of a bright future. Who knew what would set off his feral instincts? The druid didn't know all his triggers, but he knew at least one was food deprivation. What other things would set him off on a tangent, to loose himself? Then there was the question of how long he'd be 'gone', before his tauren reasoning would return. Was this something that got worse every time it happened, until insanity took hold, or was it a symptom of being in a feral form? Shars'Bak stared at his paws, and wondered how feral druids did manage to keep their sanity.<p>

If the druid could make it through the forest alive, and with some sense of self, he figured there was hope. Maybe this was part of the game: not to give up. Some part of him wondered if the Elder Brunthorn was watching him, amused, and another discarded the thought; it assuming the Elder had far better things to do than watch over one day dreamer that he kicked out of the village.

Shars decided that his unease could only be brought down with some light excercise, so he once again set out, in hopes of getting to the other side of the immense forest. The thought of rolling plains sounded very inviting at the moment. He could almost imagine the long strands of grass flying by him, as he raced, faster and faster, towards the horizon.

In his own right, Shars was a curious person, so when he saw something shiney glinted in a bush several leaps away, he went to check it out. He had not seen anything with this kind of sheen, though the plants ahead of him obscured his view. In the back of his mind, the druid was hoping that this would be something of man-made origin, proving that intelligent creatures had been here before.

Shars'Bak got closer to the object and stopped before he actually touched the bush and used a paw to move some of the branches. It seemed that some sort of crystal on a long, silky string had gotten caught in the branches. Though the druid could see pretty well at night, his sense of color was ninety percent muted and all he saw were various hues. He assumed it was a white-ish crystal dangling from the string and made a move to take it off the bush. This artifact might come in handly later, and even if it didn't, would make for a fine momento from this year's journey into maddness.

The druid took a piece of the crystal's string in his mount and yanked it, trying to free it from the branch. A few more tugs at different angles provided no more success, so Shars'Bak leaned back, starting to walk backwards. That that moment, his senses flashed danger as he heard a barely audible 'click', followed a catch being released. Shars jerked back one last time, snapping the silk line that held the crystal, before he noticed a trap materialize out of thin air, followed by a thick chain that led to the bush that Shars had been trying to free the crystal from.

Time slowed down as Shars watched the trap miss his rear paw, but grab the entirety of his lower leg. A sickening crush followed, as bones and cartilage got crushed and broken. The druid couldn't stop himself from bellowing in pain, as he fell foward onto his front paws to relieve pressure off his left leg. Many profanities flew through the druid's mind as quickly scanned the area for predators attracted by his noise. "_Nooooo! Stupid! Stupid! How could I follow for such a simple trap! Earth Mother help me, the pain, it burns!"_

The druid went into a full panic and twisted himself around so he could look at his leg. Blood was freely flowing from where the teeth of the trap had went through his limb, and he was certain that if it wasn't for the blood, he would have been able to see his bones. His leg was starting to tingle, and he could feel his vision starting to blur. There were no tools in sight to try to pry the trap off his leg, and even then, there was no telling what kind of infection would befall the druid, in this unsanitary forest. The pain was getting to be too much for him to stay awake, so in a last act of desparation, he roared into the forest, until his throat was raw.

His energy spent, the druid laid down, chin on a paw, and looked at the crystal that had led to this chain of events. It was glowing slightly, and hovered a few inches off of the forest floor. The druid reached out with his other paw, and brought the little dodad closer to him. It felt warm to the touch, and the druid closed his eyes, awaiting the next world. _"Goodbye, Elder Brunthorn, teachers, peers and loved ones. Soon Mother and Father, I will rejoin you, in the great sea of the sky..."_

The warmness suddently felt very cold, and the druid fell into darkness.

++++*****_  
><strong>Owlkin's POV:<strong>  
>There was a noise in the forest, echoing throughout the wood. It sounded again and again, but it was growing weaker. The animal that was hurt had most likely sauntered into one of the many traps set through the forest, by over-zealous hunters, some years back. Whatever was caught wasn't going to last long and would die soon.<p>

The Owlkin hooted discontentment. It had been a few months since he had seen any evidence of these traps, but they where still around, littered in the forest.

It had been years since he had talked to another living being, and almost a century since he had seen another Owlkin. The creature didn't know why he felt compelled to help the unknown creature that had been hurt, but he soon found himself gathering his herbs and and salves. He collected some of his healing potions and grabbed a healing talisman to focus his mending spells.

All set, he reached out with a scaled, clawed hand, for his walking stick, and exited his cave, while muttering an illusion spell, which would make it look like any other rock in the forest.

The air was silent for long seconds, as the Owlbeast tried to locate where the wounded creature was. Finally hearing a roar, the Owlkin hurried towards it.

When he arrived at the site, he was surprized at what he saw: a young, druidic lion. It lacked the facial tattoos common of druids who had finished all of their training, and was devoid of the sun markings normally on their shoulders. Why an untrained druid would be wandering around in these wilds was beyond the wildkin, but he was sure he would get some answers when the feline awoke.

Curious as to what race this druid was, the Owlkin leaned in very close to the druid and took in a long breath. There was no mistaking it: despite the over-whelmingly cat-like scent, this was a tauren in its true form. Whatever this creature was doing here, it was dying from blood loss and had most liketly passed out from the sheer pain of having its leg snapped. Thankfully, the way that the druid was posed left the trap and wound at an easy-access angle for the Owlkin.

The Owlkin bent knelt down by the creature and placed a claw on the ground, concentrating. In a few seconds, a vine grew from the earth and started creeping towards the trap on the druid's leg. Finding a gap between the leg and the trap, the vine began to grow and wedge the trap open, until the Owlkin could pry it off of the druid's leg. With that done, the vine shrank back, until it dissapeared back into the earth. With the trap's pressure gone, the wounds on the passed-out druid began to bleed anew.

The moon-touched wildkin grabbed his talisman and held it in one hand before focusing his magics on the druid's leg. At least one bone was broken from what he could tell, so he set to work to mend the injuries and stop the bleeding. There would be bruising and permenent scarring, but that was a small price to for the druid to pay, to be alive.

The Owlkin watched as the druid's flesh and bone knitted itself back together under his intense healing care. After several hours of healing, the Owlkin felt drained, and he grabbed his salves from his pack. He quickly rubbed them over the just-healed areas of the druid's leg; these spots were currently devoid of fur and looked very striking against the rest of the druid's tan fur. The druid would certainly be sore when it woke up, and it occured to him that it could be downright hostile.

The Owlkin got up after a little while and found a nearby log to sit on, while waiting for the druid to stir. He looked up at the moon, and hooted a few notes, before settling into a semi-trance.  
>++++*****_<p>

Several hours later, the sun was peaking over the horizon and the druid was coming to. The wildkin snapped up, and watched to see the druid's reaction, when it learned its injuries had been healed.

The druid's eyes fluttered and he could hear it groan in pain. It turned straight to its leg, and seeing that it wasn't injured, could almost feel the waves of relief washing off of the lion. When he realized that he had spotty patches of fur part of the relief went straight into confusion, and he poked his leg gently with one of his front paws. The skin was still tender and the druid hissed when he prodded too hard.

As the druid's groggyness began to dissapate, it was about that time he smelled the salves that had been rubbed on his leg. He went from being self-focused to glancing around. At first he didn't seem to notice the Owlkin's presence, but after scanning the nearby area twice, finally concentrated his stare at the feathered creature.

The Owlkin hooted softly, hoping the druid would not attack and motioned to his medicine bag. The druid turned his head sideways, as if momentarily confused, then attempted to get up. This must have been too much for his leg, as the druid fell backwards, onto his rump, with an undignified 'umph'.

**Author's End Comments: **In my mind, the Owlbeasts/Owlkin/moon-touched wildkin and other similiar creatures which share the "boomkin" graphic are pretty much the same species, however they can branch into their own respective groups. This is also so I can use another term to describe this character and not use "Owlkin" 500 times.

Any suggestions and comments, welcome. Also looking for a possible co-author to add their own character(s) to this story. I don't have any definent goals yet, but I do suspect that dragons and night elves will eventually get involved at one point.


End file.
